


5 Times someone reminded Simon to eat and 1 Time they didn't have to

by fandomstakeoveryourlife



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Simon Lewis, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-22 04:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16590788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomstakeoveryourlife/pseuds/fandomstakeoveryourlife
Summary: It was safe to say that Simon was shit at remembering to eat, he always had been, even when he was human, but now, as a vampire, it wasn't just because he forgot.





	5 Times someone reminded Simon to eat and 1 Time they didn't have to

**1**

Simon was thirteen years old and sitting, half sunk, into the faded blue bean bag he'd had in his room since he was seven. He could remember when he'd first got it and it had seemed to take up half the space in his room; the fabric was vibrant and had the fresh smell that all new things have, the smell that everyone loves, even though it's always gone within two weeks. It'd been massive compared to him then, but now it was limp and worn and smelt, more than a bit, like mildew. It looked almost sad, slumped tiredly in the corner of his room; a reminder of the energetic kid he used to be. 

His fingers plucked faintly at the strings of the guitar situated in his lap, his other hand flicking through the pages of a song book; he wasn't sure if he wanted something a little heavier, or more country. His lower lip caught between his teeth and his brow puckered in thought as he paused on a song. Simon pulled his hand back decisively and looked down at the guitar to shift his fingers into the correct positions for the starting chord.

He inhaled deeply, then let out all the tension he'd been holding within, as he exhaled and began to play. Everything just seemed to melt away as his full attention was absorbed by the music and its notes. The anxious thoughts of Clary and how to deal with his feelings slipped from his mind, as did the worries of a recent low test score. His shoulders relaxed and slumped down, his jaw unclenched and he forgot about his mother, downstairs, arguing with his sister in snappish tones. 

Then, his bedroom burst open and Clary burst in; Simon let out a yelp of surprise and fumbled awkwardly with his guitar in a such a manner that he heard at least two of the strings twist out of tune. Had it been anyone who'd interrupted his practice, he would have furrowed his brow in a frustrated glare, instead, butterflies erupted in his stomach and his cheeks burned hot pink. 

He licked his lips nervously. "How-How long were you standing outside?" He'd started to develop a stutter around her. It made him feel kind pathetic; what kind of girl wants a guy who can't even talk to her without tripping over his words?

Clary frowned and let out a little laugh. "What? I wasn't standing outside at all; I your mom let me in and came straight upstairs, just now."

"Oh, um, never mind." Simon stared down at his lap. 

Clary rolled her eyes. "If you're wondering if I was listening 'cause I might be judging your playing, you know I would never judge you Simon." She paused. "Well, unless you were doing something stupid." 

Simon forced out a short laugh, then glanced up at Clary, but she wasn't looking at him. She sat down on the edge of his bed, with its superman bedspread, and looked at him with a frown.

"Have you eaten today?" 

The question took Simon mildly by surprise. "Um, yeah? I think so." He trailed off as he ran through his memory. 

The frown piercing Clary's brow deepened. "What do you mean you think so? Either you have, or you haven't, so which is it?" 

She always tended to get snappy when it came to self care, especially when it came to Simon's self care. 

Simon hung his head with a sigh. "No, I haven't eaten today; I've been busy, and I haven't really been hungry." He cringed at his sheepish tone and pathetic excuses; he should have made an effort to eat something, at least.

Clary huffed and rolled her eyes. "Simon, come on." She paused and looked at him. "Why don't we go into town and get something now? I'll pay." 

He looked up with wide eyes, mouth already open to argue. 

She scowled at him. " _I'll pay_." She said forcefully.

 

**2**

It was the almost hesitant knock at the door that awoke him, followed by the tentative voice of his mother, calling out to him.

"Simon? Simon, honey? How are you feeling?" There was a pause. "Simon, honey, can I come in?"

Still groggy with sleep, Simon stayed silent, part of him clutching at the faint hope that she'd think he was asleep, and not come in, in case she disturbed him. But it was a pointless, fruitless hope, as, moments later, the familiar sound of the door handle clicking, as it turned, echoed out through the undisturbed room. The hinges groaned in exhaustion as his mother pushed open the door and strode into the, more than slightly, dusty bedroom.

She coughed a little. "It's a bit dusty in here; why don't we open the curtains, and a window; some fresh air and sunlight would do you a world of good, don't you think so?"

Simon did not think so. In fact, he thought the exact opposite. He groaned into his pillow and burrowed further under the layers comforter that were piled atop his bed. The last thing that would help him right now, was sunlight. It had barely been three days since he'd been turned and he hadn't told his mother yet. He just wasn't sure how; it wasn't like there were brochures on how to tell your mother that you were a vampire. There was no way she would take it well, anyway; why would she? It wasn't everyday that your teenage son came up to you and told you he was actually dead, couldn't go out in the sun, and needed to drink blood to survive.

The sound of curtain hooks rattling along the curtain rail brought him sharply back to reality. Even through the thickness of the quilt, he could still feel the warmth of the sun, bleeding through into his unearthly pale skin. A whine built in the back of his throat and he curled further into a ball, away from the natural light. A creak hit his overly sensitive ears as his mom opened the window; he couldn't remember the last time it'd been open. Simon didn't actually need such a thick blanket; he didn't feel the cold, or the heat, anymore. But, he'd found that it was useful to have it as extra protection against the sun, during the day, in case a stream or two of sunlight leaked through the gap in the curtains.

"Come on, Simon, get your head out from under the quilt, and get some sunlight." The tone of his mother's voice was gentle on the surface, but he knew her well enough to hear the sharp, firm, motherly tone underneath, the one that wasn't worth arguing with.

"Mom?" He croaked. His voice sounded weird to his ears; too loud, and fake, somehow.

"Yes, honey?" She sounded unnaturally eager. It reminded him of a dog, ready and waiting for its next command.

"Could you shut the curtains, please?"

"You need some sunlight, Simon." And just like that, the firm, motherly tone was back; always thinking of what was best for him. Or, at least, what she thought was best for him.

"Yeah, I know. It's just," he paused, thinking for a brief moment, "it hurts my eyes."

"Oh. Okay. Do you want me to leave the window open?" Her voice sounded strange, as if her throat was being gently constricted.

Simon thought for a moment, listening to the bird songs that were drifting in through the window. "Yeah, please."

The curtain hooks rattled back along their rail, again. Then silence fell over the room again, but only for a moment.

"How are you feeling, dear?" That was mother for you, I suppose; always focusing on how you were, could they help you, what was wrong. Always.

"Okay, I guess. Tired. Really tired. Sick. Yeah." The words caught in the back of his throat, sticking to his tongue, like they didn't want to come out. It felt wrong, lying to his own mom, like this.

"Oh, okay. Do you want anything?"

"No." _To be alive and human again,_ he thought.

A sigh echoed against his ears.

"You haven't eaten the food I brought you yesterday."

Fuck.

"No, I wasn't, I'm not, hungry. Feel sick. I don't wanna eat anything in case I throw up, y'know?"

 _Not hungry for food, just hungry for blood_ his mind added, unhelpfully.

"You need to eat something, Simon. Your body won't be able to fight off this...whatever it is."

"Yeah. I know."

There was a long, drawn out silence.

"Okay, well, I hope you feel better, honey. Give a shout if you need anything."

The groan of the door hinges hung into room as the they swung closed.

 

**3**

 Raphael was weirdly adamantly systematic about feeding; he would come, everyday, at certain times, to check on Simon, and make sure he'd fed. If he hadn't, for the first few times, he'd rolled his eyes silently and mutter something irritably in Spanish, before skulking out of the room. Then, he'd check more frequently, and remind Simon, in a sharp tone, that he needed to feed. Around the 5th or 6th time, he'd just bring a bag of blood with him, and wouldn't leave until every last drop had been drunk.

Simon hated his need to drink blood.

He knew it was selfish to feel like that, because every other vampire felt the same need, the same thirst. But all the same, it made him feel like a monster. It didn't matter that blood was from an animal, and not a human; it was still blood, and it had still been inside a living thing once. Every time he fed, he couldn't get the picture of it being a living thing once, out of his head.

For a while, he tried lying to Raphael, telling him he'd already fed. To start with, it seemed to work, but then, his skin paled, like it always did when he hadn't eaten for too long.

Raphael noticed, of course; he always did. His eyes did the thing they always did when he was suspicious of Simon; they darkened and narrowed, his thick eyebrows drew together and his brow puckered, lines creasing his forehead in a way that made him look angry and concerned at the same time. That look always made Simon want to fidget under his gaze, to hop from foot to foot and pick anxiously at the denim of his jeans.

"Have you eaten, really, Simon?"

His tone was soft and low, like it could turn either angry or sympathetic and caring at any moment, depending on Simon's answer. And every time, when Simon hung is head and whispered that he hadn't, Raphael would mutter something unintelligible, then turn on his heel and leave. He'd come back moments later with two full glasses.

The contents of the glasses was always different; something mixed in with blood. Sometimes, it was alcohol, dressed up like a cocktail. Other times, it was a mug of unnaturally dark substance, that smelt like a strange concoction of blood and coffee. Once, it came in the form of a sort of lumpy cupcake...thing. Apparently, there was blood mixed into cake batter. It smelt and tasted as weird as it sounded. Though, it hadn't lasted long, as his vampire stomach had, all too quickly, rejected the food, and he'd found himself hunched over one of the bowl of one of the toilets that had been left in the hotel as some kind of joke. It hadn't been all that funny, though, as he knelt over on the tile floor, clutching at white porcelain, as he brought up a nauseatingly stale blood coloured mush.  Raphael stayed with him the whole time, crouched catlike behind him, his cold finger spread out on his back in an oddly comforting gesture.

That was something else; Raphael didn't do physical contact. Not usually, anyway. Simon hadn't known that to start with; he thought the older vampire's casual touches were normal, something he did with everyone. Until after a clan meeting in one of the communal rooms in the hotel, and Raphael had gently squeezed Simon's upper arm as he left; a touch Simon was well used to by now, as the other vampire seemed to have a habit of touching him, in some way, before he left, even if it was just to go get something from another room and would be back within minutes. Lily had turned to him after Raphael's soft footsteps had faded away down the hall. Her eyes were narrowed and there was a look on her face, like she was curious and suspicious of him, at the same time.

"What?" Simon's tone was automatically defensive; he hated it when people stared at him, and he hated it even more when he didn't know why.

"What's so special about you?" Her voice wasn't hostile, she just sounded lightly confused and as if she didn't understand him.

He blinked at her. "I'm sorry?"

Lily looked past him, in the direction of the door that Raphael had just left through. "He never does that with anyone. So why you?"

A deep frown creased Simon's brow. "Doesn't do what?"

"Touch people. Raphael never touches people."

"Oh." He fell silent and blinked stupidly at the ground. What made him so special?

But the silence between them didn't last long, as Lily hooked a delicate finger under his chin and tipped his head up until their dark eyes met.

"Have you fed recently, fledgling?" Her tone wasn't like Raphael's, when he asked the same question; hers was almost command like, though not as brusque as he knew she could be.

"Yeah..." He trailed off, knowing there was no point lying to her; she always knew when someone was lying to her.

Lily wrinkled her nose at him in distaste. "You need to feed; Raphael will be on you, if you don't." Then she pulled back her hand and was gone in seconds.

 

**4**

Magnus Bane's apartment always surprised and amazed Simon, every time he visited; it always seemed to be different, and yet just the same. He had only ever been inside for short periods of time; a quick stop in for something, then off again. The longest he'd stayed, was when he'd first been turned and he'd sat in Magnus' living area, on a sofa, shaking, while Raphael and Magnus murmured in hushed tones. He couldn't remember how long he'd been there, but he left with several bags of blood, to store in the mini-fridge beneath his bed, all the same.

Now he was back again, sitting on a sofa, though not the same one as before. His hands were shaking and they felt clammy, even to him. He could see the veins bulging out beneath his pale skin, that had faded to an, almost transparent, greyish colour; it was sickening to look at. The sound of two heartbeats echoed dully in his ears, yet they were loud enough to have already built up a pounding headache, thudding through his skull. He could smell Alec's blood, even though he was stood, hovering awkwardly in the passing area that joined the kitchen to the open living area. There was a concerned look on his face, as he glanced between Simon and, presumably, Magnus in the kitchen. His teeth were digging into his lip, and some part of Simon begged them to pierce through the skin, just so he could inhale the scent of fresh blood.

He hadn't intended to end up at Magnus', but he and Raphael had had a fight, about him not eating enough.

Raphael had yelled at him, called him suicidal and told him he was going to end up killing himself. Simon had yelled back that it was his own choice if he didn't want to feed as regularly as Raphael liked. The response had been that he was going to lose control and attack someone, and then he really would be a monster. There had been a look of hurt in the older vampire's eyes as Simon had snarled back "Oh yeah? A monster? Just like you then." Then, his they'd glazed over with a detached look of fierce anger, though, behind his eyes, there hung deep hurt. Simon had left before anything else happened, with an roaring, aching, feeling of guilt burning in his chest and his heart.

He'd wandered around the city for a few days, sleeping where in the abandoned industrial areas; the warehouses were usually empty and undisturbed, plus, they provided shelter from the sunlight during the day. Then, he'd found himself wandering over to Magnus' apartment when the hunger had begun to burn inside his veins and ache deep within his stomach. It had been some stupid time in the morning, still dark of course, when he'd buzzed up to the apartment, yet Magnus was still up. He'd sounded surprised when Simon had spoken, but he let him up anyway. Though, his joking demeanor had quickly dispersed when he opened the door and took in Simon's unearthly pale pallor, with his dark dark eyes and veins burning purple blue beneath his skin.

 Magnus, surprisingly, hadn't asked anything about what had happened, just ushered him in and herded him into the living area, where Alec was half curled on a couch, some sort of vaguely fancy looking drink grasped loosely between his fingers. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead in surprise as Simon came shuffling into the room. The young vampire could see the Shadowhunter's hesitance as he took in the obvious signs of hunger.

"When was the last time you fed?"

Simon flinched a little at the sudden voice as it yanked him out of the oceans of his thoughts. He raised his head to see that the two other males had seated themselves on the opposite sofa; Magnus with a drink in each hand. He leaned over and firmly pressed one of them into Simon's palm. The intense smell of blood curled up into his nostrils and he felt his fangs press down through his gums and dig into his lower lip. All he could focus on was the glass in his hand; he was fighting his instincts; the monstrous voice in his head screaming at him to feed.

"Drink it, Simon."

Maybe it was the fact Magnus called him by his actual name, maybe it was the severity of his tone; either way, Simon followed the command and the glass was sickeningly empty within seconds. He looked back up at Magnus, who was still watching him, with a serious look on his face, his eyebrows drawn in and his lips pressed together in a thin line that made Simon want to fidget, like when Raphael gave him the same, intense stare.

"Alright. I think we need to have a chat. You and I. About you. About this."

"Okay." His voice sounded small, even to him, barely above a whisper; not as a vampire should sound.

"You've not been feeding enough. I don't need Raphael to tell me that to know it; it's obvious just by looking at you."

The vampire's head snapped back up again. Raphael had been telling Magnus he hadn't been eating?

"I don't like doing it. Drinking blood, I mean." He hung his head and dropped his voice to a low whisper. "It feels wrong. I don't know. I feel like a monster."

He flicked his eyes upwards, expecting a look of pity to be etched into Magnus' face, but, instead, he found a look of understanding staring back at him. 

"Simon, you are not the only vampire in the world; you are not the only one finding it difficult to transition and adapt to your new lifestyle." He paused and licked his lips, as if in thought. "I have known Raphael since he was a fledgeling, like you, and he was just the same. Only, after he was turned, he drained and killed his friends." He paused a second time. "When I found Raphael, he was going to kill himself; he had become the monster he originally set out to destroy. But, over time, he accepted that a vampire was what he was, and nothing could be done to change that."

Simon sat in silence for several moments, rolling the glass between his palms. "He doesn't act like he's been what I'm going through, though. He just remains as grumpy and irritated with me as ever."

Magnus tilted his head at him. "Does he though? Think about it for a moment; is there anything he does for you, to you, that he doesn't for anyone else?"

The room lapsed into silence again. Now that he thought about it, Raphael  _did_ do things just for him; the little touches, the way he let Simon sleep in his room after a nightmare; the older vampire would stay awake until Simon fell asleep. He would go out of his way to make sure Simon fed, and do extra little things, like with the blood cupcakes he made once. He was protective of Simon too; he would frequently check on the younger vampire, whenever they partook in meetings with other clans, or downworlders, and at vampire gatherings, or downworlder parties, like Magnus', he would stick close by Simon's side, his fingers often lingering at the other's waist, or hooked gently, but firmly, into the crook of his elbow, grasping the muscled part of his arm, as if to prepared to quickly pull him away if someone got too close.

"Sometimes." 

Magnus raised his eyebrows, a look of disbelief settled into his handsome features. "He likes you, Simon, he really does." 

Simon shook his head in disagreement. "If he does, then why did he yell at me earlier? Why did he call me suicidal and stupid? Why does he get grumpy with me, for no fucking reason?" His voice had escalated. As he clenched his jaws together to stop himself from ranting any further, he felt his fangs dig into his lower lip; they must have appeared out of anger.

Alec looked tense, though his face held understanding that Simon hadn't seen in anyone in a long time. 

The warlock sighed gently. "He called you suicidal, and yelled at you, because he cares." He paused, then spoke again before Simon could say anything in response. "He cares about you Simon, and he gets worried about you when you don't feed often enough. He worries that you're doing it deliberately, because you're not adjusting well enough, and that he's going to lose you."

He paused he swallow and inhale. "Simon, in all the years I've known Raphael, I've never seen him care about someone, the way he cares about you. I know it may not feel like he cares about you, but that's mostly because he's emotionally constipated, and doesn't know how to express his feelings, to you; or in general, actually. I'm not telling you to go running over to The Hotel, and announce your love to him, but keep it in mind, okay? You're welcome to stay here as long as you wish, though I will make sure you feed, every day."

Simon nodded and looked down at the glass in his hands; the blood residue inside it were already drying in flaky, brown streaks.

 

**5**

He only ended up staying at Magnus'  for three days, and then he left again. That was over a week ago, and he hadn't fed since. 

Squatted down in the back of an alleyway, Simon's head swam; Raphael had told him once, that fledglings could last about 2 weeks without feeding, before they either lost control and savagely mad with hunger, or their bodies just gave in and their died of starvation. He'd said their bodies shut down, bit by bit, and they could feel everything; their mind was last to die, when they could no longer scream, and had pretty much gone insane. The thought bubbled in the back of Simon's head as his stomach growled and his skull throbbed sharply; all around him, he could the echoes of the heartbeats of living organisms. He curled over his knees and pressed the butt of his palms into his ears, trying to block out the noise.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he flinched so hard he lost his balance and fell half sideways, onto his butt. He blinked up at the young man standing over him; all that he could smell and hear, was the blood pumping around the living human's body. A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to coil and pounce upon his prey, and drain him dry. He shook the awful thought from his mind.

The man frowned at him. "You alright, mate?" 

Simon nodded hastily, and ran his tongue over his lips. It caught on the tips of his fangs, and the coppery taste of blood briefly spread across his tongue. 

The man let out a short laugh. "You look like you're trippin' real hard, man." 

The vampire forced out a similar huff of laughter. "Yeah, something like that." 

"Kinda young t' be dopin' up on shit, aren't you?" 

Simon shrugged and looked away.

"You look like you should eat more and smoke less, kid." The guy paused. "I'll buy you a sandwich, or something, if you want? You probably need it." 

The teen shook his head hurriedly. "No, 's'fine; I'll be fine."

"You sure?" 

"Yep."

The man shrugged. "Your choice. Take care of yourself, man." Then he turned, and was gone. 

Simon's stomach growled again; the burning pain of hunger was back, worse than he'd felt it before. He whined in the back of his throat, and hugged his knees to his chest. 

It was sometime in the evening now; it was a little easier during the day because he could just sleep through it all. But now, he was awake, and the hunger was back, more present than ever. He knew he should return to the clan, or at least go visit Magnus, and get some blood, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had told Magnus he was heading back to The Hotel, and not to let Raphael know he was coming back, because he sort of wanted to surprise him. Instead, he had hung around the city until it was nearly sunrise, then he'd found somewhere safe and dark to sleep. If he went back to The Hotel now, Raphael would demand to know where he'd been, then yell at him for not feeding and endangering others. To be honest, he'd probably already spoken to Magnus. Speaking of Magnus, if he went back there, to feed, he already knew that he would get a scolding there, too. It was pointless either way.

Something in him, the beast, was restless, and he found himself arching to his feet, with surprising grace. He let his feet and his instincts lead him to the mouth of the alleyway. Tugging his hood up over his head, he stepped out on the street. He strode along with his hands in his pockets, migrating onto a busier street. The hunger inside cried out to be relieved, but he fought it. Pushing past people, he growled animalistically at them through gritted teeth. His fangs dug into the inside of his lip, pricking his gums. The sharp taste of blood kept him focused as he walked with pace, his head aching fiercely. 

Ducking down a sidestreet, he caught the scent of another vampire. He came to a stop, and blinked as a dark figure appeared down the sidewalk ahead of him.

It was Lily.

She came striding up, and, before he knew it, she was pining him up against a cold, slightly damp wall, in a side alley that came off the street. She yanked his hood down and stared at him under the glow of a nearby street lamp. There was a look of deep exhaustion set into her face, as if she had been stressed and not getting enough sleep. 

"Where have you been?" She hissed. Simon growled back, baring his fangs, on edge. 

The stinging slap took him by surprise and left his cheek smarting painfully. All too suddenly, he was hyper aware of everything; the presence of Lily, the smell of blood, the beating of hearts, and the intensely painful ache of hunger, burning in his stomach. His head tilted to the side and he stared at her through widened eyes.

She looked a little calmer now, though the anger had been replaced by a look of concern. "Raphael has been worried sick. Where the hell have you been?"

"Oh, y'know, around." Talking suddenly took so much effort; he'd never realised how tiring it was to keep his head up and to move his mouth, and to make noises that sounded like words. 

"He's been awful; he hasn't slept, at all." She tilted her head at him and narrowed her eyes. "When was the last time you fed?" 

Simon shrugged. "Week ago? I don't know." 

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she scowled. "You idiot; do you know how stupid that is? You're endangering so many lives." 

Anger boiled up inside him and, before he knew what he was doing, he shoved Lily backwards and into the other wall, with surprising strength. "Fuck  _off_!" He roared, his entire body shuddering, his muscles coiled and tense.

Lily pushed herself back up and onto steady feet. "We're going back to the hotel right now, you hear me? You need to feed. Now." 

Within moments, the anger was gone again, and everything was aching again. His head swam suddenly, and he stumbled. Hands grabbed his shoulders, and hook one of his arms around a body. 

"You can't keep doing this, Simon. You can't. It doesn't just hurt you. It hurts Raphael, and he lashes out, and hurts others because of it." 

 

**+1**

The Hotel loomed up over them sooner than Simon expected it to. It was becoming difficult to focus on anything and he kinda felt like he was going to throw up. 

Lily tugged on his arm. "Come on, not much further." She probably could have carried him back, though, Simon wasn't quite sure why she hadn't. Maybe she was worried he might bite her while they were moving; he had more control than that though, right?

The rest of the clan were milling anxiously around the lobby of the hotel, all looking unsettled and unusually restless. It wasn't uncommon at all for vampires to normally be comfortable with settling in one position for hours on end, but now, the clan seemed unable to stay still for more than a few moments, before they were shifting from foot to foot, or pacing, or switching sitting position again and again. All heads turned as Simon entered, supported heavily by Lily. Within the blink of an eye, they were all on their feet and standing with rigid form, eyes staring.

"Someone call the other vampires off the search; I'm going to take Simon to Raphael. He'll be okay." Simon wasn't sure if Lily meant him, or Raphael, but every vampire before him, in the room, seemed to relax a little, their tense shoulders dropping minutely.

One vampire, whose name was unfamiliar to Simon, spoke up then. "Need we a bag, or two, of blood?"

Lily shook her head firmly. "No. Raphael will rather deal with this himself; if he needs any blood, I'm sure he will call." There were nods of approval, and the cluster of vampires dispersed as quickly as they had stood.

Simon blinked blearily and swayed dizzily. His stomach lurched painfully as Lily began to tug him, with surprising strength, up the stairs of the hotel. Unfortunately, Raphael's room was on the top floor of the hotel, though, to be honest, he couldn't really remember most of the trip up the stairs; he probably blacked out, or just let himself be led.

The older female vampire gave a solid knock on the door to Raphael's room. It swung open with gusto.

" _What_ do you want? I _thought_ -" The snappish voice of Raphael cut off. "-Simon?"

There was a stiff shove from behind, and Simon stumbled unevenly forwards. His limbs and feet suddenly decided they were going to refuse to work, and he found his vision blurring achingly, as he collided into the chest of his clan leader. A pair of thickly muscled arms curled around him, underneath his arms, and held him upright, hugging him against something firm and, yet, kinda squishy.

"...Rafa?" His voice sounded weirdly croaky to his own ears; it scratched the back of his throat.

"Simon, mi amado, open your eyes." Raphael's voice was gentle, yet firm.

Obediently, the young vampire forced his eyelids apart. The ceiling was fuzzy above him, and it took him far longer than it should have done, to realise that he was lying on the bed in Raphael's room. Pulling apart his sore, chapped lips, he ran his tongue over their rough surface.

"You need to feed, little one. I know you have an issue with the bagged stuff we have downstairs, and we'll deal with that later, but, for now, you can drink from me."

Something silverish glinted in the corner of his vision, then the air was filled with the heavy scent of coppery blood. Simon's mind went mad with the scream of hunger; his stomach felt as if it was tearing itself apart. A whine built in the back of his throat, and he rolled, slowly, over onto his knees, blinking his dark eyes wide. Crouched on the balls of his feet, he took in the sight before him: Raphael was kneeling before him, adorning a pair of trousers that needed pressing, and a heavily wrinkled white shirt, whose sleeves were rolled up past his elbows. His hair had a greasy sheen and was hanging over his eyes in its naturally curly state. His face seemed to hold more shadows than normal, his cheek bones ever prominent, and the circles beneath his eyes were bruise deep. One wrist had been slashed open by the glinting knife that now sat by his foot. Scarlet beads of blood were welling in the wound and a fat droplet was trickling down the side of Raphael's wrist.

Simon let the arm be raised to his lips and his fangs slid into the open wound.

The salty taste of blood flooded through his mouth and he cupped the fleshy, muscular part of Raphael's arm, pressing it harder against his mouth, swallowing deep. His knees hit the carpet and his form curled over; feeding.

After a moment or two, he pulled back, dark, wet blood glistening on the surface of his lips. He ran his tongue over the jagged wound, then gently dropped Raphael's arm, as the older vampire tilted his head to one side, exposing the smooth, pale surface of his tightly muscled neck. His pupils were blown wide, his skin pale, with his fangs visibly poking out from under his top lip.

Simon lurched forward with surprising grace and pressed his palms against the hollow of the vampire's neck, supporting his head, before piercing the white flesh with his needle pointed fangs. Momentarily, Raphael tensed beneath his touch, then, softened again, and pressed tighter against Simon, a soft moan rasping from his lips. Simon drank and pulled the older vampire against himself, curving over him in a possessive manner.

Eventually, he pulled back and licked the last droplets of blood from the blush burnt skin of his lips. Curling away from the older vampire, Simon sat back and Raphael rolled his neck back up straight, his dark eyes drifted. The ripped open wounds in his flesh knitted back together as he righted himself, watching the fledgling with a look that Simon couldn't quite place.

"I'm sorry."

"I know; as am I." His eyes locked onto Simon's. "You are forgiven."

Simon slumped forwards, his lack of grace had returned and he suddenly felt so incredibly tired, and, yet, as if he couldn't keep his eyes closed. 

He decided to bite the bullet. "Lily said you were worried about me." 

Raphael's dark eyebrows lowered over his eyes, as if it were obvious. "Yes; we had a fight and you ran off. Then I got a message from Magnus saying you had arrived at his apartment, looking as though you had not fed in days. He said you were conflicted and your mind was dark. When he told me you had departed for The Hotel, I waited for you, I felt bad for yelling at you. But, when you did not appear, I was concerned. Magnus convinced me that you would be fine, and probably come home within a few days. I decided to give it up to a week, before I sent out searchers. And I wish I had made the decision before I did."

He blinked slowly at Simon; there was a thoughtful look set deep into his eyes. Simon hung his head a little, muttering another apology, but stopped as the older vampire hooked two fingers under his chin and tipped his face back upwards, so their eyes met in the soft light of the bedroom. 

"Promise me, Simon, that you will try harder to feed regularly. I understand your struggles, and I want to help you adjust to your new life, okay?"

Simon nodded. "Okay."


End file.
